


Guilt

by StarishSparkles



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, I literally cried writing this help me, Injury, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarishSparkles/pseuds/StarishSparkles
Summary: A oneshot where Ladybug gets hurtShe doesn't die though (spoilers)





	Guilt

He had wanted to tell her.

Earlier that day, standing in front of his mirror, he had practiced his confession over and over until his kwami threw a shoe at him. He’d transformed with a dorky grin on his face, and had barely paid attention to the akuma in his excitement. He’d been so distracted by her that he’d failed to notice the shard of metal thrown in his direction until it was too late, until he was being barrelled out of the way by spotted red and black faster than he could blink, until he could do nothing but watch in slow motion as she scrunched over with an ear-splitting shriek, until the love of his life took a sliver of metal thicker than his thumb to the stomach to save him.

Until there was a pool of blood on the ground and she was still standing.

_“NO!”_

She told him to ignore her and find the akuma so she could purify it. She threw her lucky charm in her air, a strangled scream escaping as she did, catching a huge magnet that she threw away from her with a cry. Her face was getting paler by the moment, but she still distracted the akumatised woman with taunts until he could use the magnet to reach the object that needed breaking, (her _hairpin_ , of all things) and purified the butterfly before collapsing.

He was at her side in an instant, completely at a loss at what to do except call for a doctor as loud as he could, hands flitting over her body uselessly, his voice threatening to spill everything his chest couldn’t contain as he shouted, begging someone, _anyone_ , to save his lady. He had never felt so helpless, and it was _all his fault_. He had to be dragged away from her body once the paramedics arrived, hysterical and clawing unsuccessfully at the air where she should have been, sagging into the ground once she was carted away, taking the fastest route to the nearest hospital.

He didn’t move until his ring beeped insistently in the deafening silence that had descended over the crowd, and when he stood up and walked away slowly nobody followed.

He didn’t cry when he reached his empty home. He didn’t cry when he stared at his ceiling for what felt like hours, numb. He didn’t cry when a news bulletin questioned the whereabouts of his alter ego, three days after the attack. He didn’t cry when his lady was announced officially recovering, two days after that. He didn’t cry when, three empty weeks later, he got a message through his baton from her telling him to be at the Eiffel Tower as soon as convenient. He didn’t cry when he transformed and didn’t so much as glance in his mirror before catapulting himself out of his bedroom window.

\----

He cried when she smiled at him and told him everything was going to be okay.


End file.
